men & minis

sorry, not the skirts, not the cars. well, maybe skirts -- as a slam.

teacup dogs have crept into fashion pages and women's handbags over the last few years. paris and brittney use them as accessories. boston always is slow on these trends, but sure enough, i see women with a giant shoulderbag topped with a tiny head ( or two!) sticking out.

my first dog was a 30-pound scrapper bitch-mix of terrier and "traveling salesman" (uh, yeah, my grandmother's words, lol), who lived to be 18. she rocked. my next, and coinciding, dog -- "my" dog -- came from a puppy farm. nobody back then knew that was bad, and it was just a bid to balm me after another of my dad's awol's. she grew freakishly large and always wanted to sleep on my bed. she outweighed me, so i let her, lol.

i know my space isn't right for a big dog like my mason. he was 90 pounds with a big frame. he would have been cooped up, yet hulking at the same time. ( i know i blogged about the stoopid cow with the husky--i think she moved.) but there is a vast middle ground between eyedropper and overflowing glass.

my building has lots of trendy folk. lots of chicks and their goddamn tiny dogs. it annoys me to no end when i see people carrying a dog. we are not in the throes of katrina. there is no broken levy. your pooch has paws. does he ever piss in your bag? seriously?

lots of these women live with guys -- i guess? otherwise why do i see so many guys walking these tiny puffs? yeah, yeah, i'm being sexist. I KNOW THAT. except for the little french gay guy who coos en francaise to his petite fluff, i still find it hard to imagine a straight guy waking up and saying, "i wanna snicker-doodle!" (or whatever they're called) i will commend his willingness to walk the damn thing without overt shame to keep his g/f happy though. kudos.

over the line?

the other day, i saw a chained-up bike with a basket. inside of which were two tiny nuggets--both wearing antique style motorcycle goggles. k, they fit their heads -- these were not makeshift, lol. beauty of a day, dog/bike owner fending off women about the *cute*. my head wanted to explode. it wasn't cute. it was gross. they don't *like it*. they respond to their owner's approval. dogs don't ever wanna wear a hat.

funny thing ? my dog? gwennie? we could dress her anyhow. glasses, pipe, boxers, hat, necktie. anything. but i was a 10-year-old taking polaroids, not a 40-something defining myself through my pet.

i confess to a deep-seated chihuahua aversion -- those shivering snippy skeletons. ack. is that a dog? no, it's a constant clarion of nervous projection. tiny yappy anxious bits with a napolean complex. there is one a few doors down, insistent on conquering my condo and me. yet, since the cat swiped him viciously to bloody snout, he's even more talk, no action. his door was open tonight when i came home and he was running all over the long hall. his owner started to chase, but i stood still, with a firm voice. he came home in a blink. maybe i should move there? better view? nah, wretched dog.